


For Me

by red_at_three (elle_stone)



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot, Yet not actually that explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:30:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_stone/pseuds/red_at_three
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP first time fantasy porn for the prompt "You will lift your hips now, Jim."</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2009 for a prompt on the st_xi_kink meme. This was the first even vaguely sexually explicit thing I ever wrote; it's not actually that detailed, but it felt like something scandalous at the time.

Lights down low, they’re surrounded by red, the faint hints of metal around them, and all the pillows have been thrown on the floor. Spock is over him. Heavy and hot, so hot. He’s grabbed Jim’s hands and his fingers are over his pulse points and he’s kissing Jim’s neck to some rhythm that he hears beating in that blood. Jim’s usually the one on top, the one kissing mouth and then neck and then arms and chest, stomach, down, and letting his fingers grips hips and trails along thighs and he’s the one asking you ready? now? but with Spock everything is different, this body pressing over him to make him catch his breath, he doesn’t know what will happen, he’s pulsing with his own want. Spock bites at the spot of skin above his collar bone and Jim moans. Spock’s hands release his wrists and Jim grabs at Spock’s back, trying without thinking to pull him yet closer, closer yes it’s possible, he believes it will be done. Spock takes Jim up, arms behind his back and lifts him closer, mouth on mouth now and tongue against tongue and then Spock whispers right into his mouth so that Jim could almost swallow these words, swallow the breath of them, hot Vulcan breath—Spock whispers: “Do you want me, Jim?”

His eyes are closed as he says it. Jim’s heart is beating almost like nervousness. He tangles his legs around Spock’s. He draws in a breath as well as he can to answer, the only answer he has, just “yes” just that, and presses his mouth against Spock’s again. For a second it’s sweet. Careful like the first time.

Then Spock is kissing his face again, his cheek and the edge of his ear and Jim’s whispering, whispering without realizing he’s saying anything at all, thoughts beating in his head and Spock’s hands are sliding down him now, one at his hip and one pressing as well as he can between their bodies, snaking around Jim, hard against Spock’s leg, and Jim’s whispering in ragged breaths, “Yes yes want you please anything Spock yes you now please.”

“You will kiss me,” Spock demands, sandpaper voice against Jim’s ear. He turns his face to him and Jim complies, open mouth to open mouth and it’s rough this time, wet, and he sucks a moment against Spock’s lower lip before he pulls away and lets his head fall flat against the mattress again.

Spock shifts on top of him, and for a moment Jim’s afraid he’ll move away, fear out of nowhere, he’s lost, the flickering of candles around them, the hum of the ship, the sweat on his skin, his sweat and Spock’s. The room is a desert. Spock moves his hand away and presses a palm flat against the bed to either side of Jim’s body, leaning on them over him, kneeling over Jim, far enough away now for Jim to read the expression on his face. It's a fierce and possessive look, a hot deep flare of lust in his eyes.

“You will touch me,” Spock commands, and Jim does, curls his palm around the length of him, slow stroke down. Spock’s eyes flutter closed and later Jim will try to remember him, that moment, and he’ll think, beautiful is the word for it, the only word, for the shine of his skin, faint green flush, hair in disarray.

Spock opens his eyes again, catches Jim’s gaze, and lowers his body again just to kiss at Jim’s chest, down his ribs, one then the other. Jim lets his own eyelids fall and steadies his spare hand at Spock’s hip.

Spock lowers down to one elbow, his other hand splayed against Jim’s side.

“Please Spock . Want you, want.”

A flicker of tongue just where his ribs end and then Spock is trailing his lips again, his mouth open wide against Jim’s skin up, and up, and up, and into his neck he almos t growls, “You will lift your hips for me.”

“Spock.”

Even he hears the nerves in his voice, the fear. “Spock—ev’never…” He’s gasping for breath, just the feel of Spock’s body pressing against his—Jim releases Spock’s sohard length from his hand and instead meets both hands at the very base of Spock’s back.

Spock tilts his head at the most awkward angle, just to catch a bit of unkissed skin at Jim’s throat, under his jaw. “You will lift your hips now, Jim,” he says. It’s a command and the force of it sends a chill even through the heat of the room but beneath the certainty there is something gentle, something that Jim has never heard before, from Spock or from anyone. He is so hard and so aching and so undone and so gasping. He digs his fingers into Spock’s skin, he closes his eyes.

“For me, you will,” Spock says. Voice a low rumble. He reaches out a hand to flash through Kirk’s hair. Reassuring touch now down the side of his face, thumb brushing against his lower lip.

“For you,” Jim whispers.

Even to his own ears his voice is choked. But he does what Spock says.

Spock pulls a pillow up from the floor and slides it under him, repositions himself—Jim hears the movements, hears other movements, other sounds, his eyes are still closed, everything known through touch and hearing now, he can hear Spock breathing, rumbling breaths. He knows Spock is over him. He feels him pull one of Jim’s legs over his shoulder.

“Look at me.”

He does, he is, staring right at Spock’s eyes, steady gaze on him as he pushes one finger, slick now, cool, into Jim. He whispers, “Fuck,” in a long, low breath, but he doesn’t close his eyes or turn away.

Two fingers in Spock leans down and kisses him again. Brief but enough, and just before he pulls away another quick press of closed lips.

Jim’s still watching Spock’s face when he takes away his fingers and begins to press himself forward, slowly, but completely, deep into Jim. It is Spock that closes his eyes, bites his lip. He starts to whisper something in a language Jim doesn’t understand. He keeps one hand on Spock’s body, the other clenched into the sheets. It is what he expected and not what he expected, sharp edge of pain at first slipping into something else, and after a few minutes he’s moaning so low he feels it in his own throat befor e hears it. He hears his own name from Spock’s lips. The rest is incoherence, lovely strings of sounds that seem to weave into the very air around them, soft but there’s a bite beneath them; the way that Jim grips at his skin is to leave bruises and Spock is moving faster now. Faster and harder and Jim is saying these words but they are not directions, not commands or orders, just syllables, anything, low, low, something building through each nerve of him.

Spock opens his eyes like forcing, careful to catch Jim’s gaze, and as he’s staring, as he’s sure that Jim can see him, every subtle detail of his expression changing and the shape of his mouth as he says Jim’s name in a deep and needing voice, deep like black air of space in which they are suspended, as he says Jim’s name he comes and Jim is caught up and torn on each sense startled and needing and wanting and yes, oh, and Spock, and this, and when Spock pulls out he takes Jim in his mouth and he’s coming too. He doesn’t yell. He does close his eyes. And he says Spock’s name, over and over in supplication, both hands balled up fisting in the sheets.

“You are okay?” Spock asks him after. He has curled their hands together in a kiss. Kirk takes two deep breaths before he speaks.

“I am more than okay,” he says. He tries to smile but the effort even of moving the muscles around his mouth is too much. He settles instead for turning his head toward Spock, a lazy movement against the flat mattress beneath them. Spock is staring at him, eyes careful and questioning.

“What?” Kirk asks, more exhale than word.

But Spock doesn’t answer. He wraps his hand more completely around Jim’s and takes their twined hands up to his mouth and kisses them gently before letting them fall down once more against the sheets.


End file.
